


A Bit of the Wild

by GreenGoth



Series: The Monrosalee Chronicles [7]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 18:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenGoth/pseuds/GreenGoth
Summary: WARNING: If Wesen lovers getting consensually and graphically furry together might bother you, best skip this little story!After becoming lovers at last ("Good Night, Sweet Grimm" Season 2 episode +  my 'Twas The Night Before Zombies fanfic), as they grow more experienced and confident together, during a playful night Monroe and Rosalee begin exploring the erotic possibilities of their mixed-species Wesen relationship...carefully and with their own particular humor.The title was cued by the Klaustreich hooker in the episode "You Don't Know Jack" when she told her prospective customer, "Wild is extra."  So, thinking that's one way the Wesen say it...here we go.





	A Bit of the Wild

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place before "Morning In Cascadia" and after "'Twas The Night Before Zombies" in the Monrosalee Chronicles. Nick has moved out of Monroe's house, back with Juliette, but Rosalee hasn't yet moved in.

**A BIT OF THE WILD**

 The credits rolled down the flat screen and Monroe reached past his wine glass for the remote without looking, his face buried in Rosalee’s silky brunette hair. He was sprawled comfortably in the corner of his yellow couch, floral pillow behind his back and his long legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. She was curled up beside him, legs tucked under her as she leaned against him, palm resting on his chest and her head on his shoulder, snuggled in the circle of his arm that held her close.

“Well, I’m glad we didn’t waste our money seeing that one at the Cineplex.” He clicked off the remote and left it on the side table, retrieving his glass of wine.

“It was okay. Kind of formulaic.”

“Ya think?” he said, using his goofy voice.

She laughed. “But it was fun, it kept moving and the effects were pretty good.” She sipped at her glass of the deep ruby cabernet blend. “And having wine while we watched it helped.”

He chuckled and clinked his glass with hers, then took a drink, rolling the rich, fruit-forward vintage over his tongue and enjoying its complexities. Berry, definitely, maybe a hint of dark chocolate but he didn’t get the soft tobacco finish described in the label’s tasting notes. More of an espresso.   “Wine definitely helps. At least they were fast zombies, not the traditional slow, shambling ones.”

“Yeah, fast like the ones that came after us! And thank god we didn’t have so many of them.”

He nodded toward the now-black screen. “There were more zombies in that last scene than the total population of the greater Portland metro area. Or maybe even Seattle-Tacoma.”

Rosalee laughed. “Sometimes it seemed that way in the grungier Seattle neighborhoods I lived in.”

He grinned and shook his head.  “It was kind of a small scale version when I first came to Portland and set up in that warehouse space in the Pearl – what’s _now_ the Pearl. It sure as hell wasn’t trendy in those days. You really had to watch your back.”

Rosalee smiled. She loved hearing new little bits of Monroe’s life history when they came out in his stories. “What was it, like artists’ lofts?”

“More like a skanky abandoned factory carved up into storage units that had plumbing and power. It’s a good thing Cascadia didn’t blow then or we’d all have been so much dead meat in the rubble.”

“Ohhh, that’s disturbing.”

“Sorry.” He kissed her hair. “I just meant it was far from elegant. But it was cheap, location was great for things I wanted to do, and the vibe was fun. I was surrounded by a really eccentric collection of people into all kinds of different stuff. Music – classical and otherwise, mostly _otherwise_ , performance art, glass blowing, costuming, you name it. None of my neighbors thought it was odd that I spent my time building and fixing clocks and playing my cello.”

He sipped his wine again, envisioning those early years. “Drove my Bug right into the space off the street through the roll-up door. Parking was a bitch in the area and I didn’t want to leave the poor thing vulnerable on the street at night anyway.” He chuckled softly at the memory. “When I sent pictures of my new digs to my parents, they thought I was insane.”

Rosalee laughed again, almost choking on her wine. “You parked your car in your living space?”

“Yeah, there was plenty of room. I had my workbenches and tables all set up, there was good natural light from the industrial windows up by the ceiling and I just curtained off a corner for my bed-sit space. It had a little two-burner stove, a mini-fridge probably salvaged from some way-overdue motel remodel and I bought a used toaster oven. Bathroom and shower stall I could barely turn around in. All the comforts.” He grinned at her bemused expression. “Hey, I’d been living in dorms and tiny student apartments for years. It felt like luxury!”

“I’d love to see some pictures. Plus, what _you_ looked like in those days.” She stroked his cheek, running her fingers through his beard. “When did you first grow this?”

He caught her fingers and kissed them. “Oh, way back. I always hated shaving – after, you know, the initial thrill of having something to shave. Plus I’ve always lived in places that got freaking cold in the winter and it helps keep my face warm. Especially out hunting in all kinds of weather.”

“Oh. Right.” Then she giggled as he closed his mouth around her fingertips and bit down gently. “Fuchsbauer?”

He laughed. “Currently my favorite prey. But not back then. Just the legal stuff, you know, deer, elk, rabbits, feral swine.”

“ _Actual_ swine, not…Bauer…?”

He pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows. “Hmmm.”

“Monroe!”

He grinned, showing teeth. “Just messing with you. No, when I first got here, I met Sam Leoni and Ned Klosterman hanging out at the local Wesen sports bars, watching the Timbers games. They were into the same music scene, liked the outdoors, knew the territory. Ned grew up here but Sam came for grad school at OHSU, liked it here so much he stayed. We hadn’t known each other long when Ned invited us to hunt with him up by Mount Hood. It felt good to get out of the city and run in the wild. Ned had his family pack, of course, but he also liked to run with a few friends separately. It’s really different, let me tell you.”

He had his head tilted back, a distant look in his eyes and a wistful smile. Rosalee took his hand and pulled his arm around her a little tighter.

“You miss it sometimes, don’t you?”

Monroe sighed. “I miss the way it was in the old days. It’s not like that for me any more. I can’t go back.”

She kissed the back of his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I. But it’s too late for that. Burned that bridge a long time ago. Still, the _wieder_ life has its compensations.” He turned and looked down into her eyes. “I’d never have met the Fuchsbau of my dreams if I were still an unreformed Blutbad.”

“You wouldn’t be dreaming of a Fuchsbau if you were unreformed. Plus you probably would have scared the hell out of me back in those days.” She shivered. “And to think I was right here in Portland at the time – or was I? What year did you move here?”

“The fall after grad school, 2001. My own ‘Space Odyssey’. I wanted to try living somewhere other than New England and the northeast. But I don’t like hot and dry, I don’t like tropical either, except in small doses. Loved the Schwartzwald when we went to visit family after the Berlin Wall came down; that was really cool. So, forest and mountain guy. The Northwest seemed like a good fit, and it was.” He gave her a squeeze. “What were you doing in 2001?  Still in school, probably?”

“Halfway through college.” She laughed and shook her head. “Double major, pre-med biology and dance. How’s that for split focus?”

“Hey, why not? Mind and body. Mine were history and religious studies. Not that I was ever particularly religious; it was more of a cultural thing. But I found it fascinating, the impact different religions have had on different parts and eras of the world – especially _our world_ ,” he said, meaning Wesen.   “So it kind of went with the history. And I kept up with my cello. Early on, I had the fantasy I’d be good enough to go pro, but…nah. So, double major plus a minor in music.   Didn’t have much of a life outside of school for a long, long time.”

“Wow. And this was at Brown?”

“Brown was grad school. I’d cashed my reality check about being a concert musician by then, to my parents’ relief. I thought maybe I’d be a historian or something, do research, write books. But that pretty much means teaching, and after all those years of school the last thing I wanted was a lifetime immured in a classroom.” He gave a rueful smile. “My mom had high hopes that I’d follow her career path in education, but no – the clocks won out.”

“Was that ever in question?”

“Not entirely. It had to at least be a sideline. Once I got my hands in, as a kid hanging out in my dad’s and other relatives’ workshops, I was always passionate about timepieces. I think it’s coded in our DNA on both sides of the family. I never really had a choice.” His smile said he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rosalee curled her fingers around his left wrist and turned it to look at the black and gold dial of his beloved vintage 1938 H. Moser watch. “You wouldn’t be Monroe without your passion for clocks. And, wow – it’s getting late. I have to get up for work tomorrow.”

“Ah…you’re staying, aren’t you?” For a moment he was afraid she was too tired after the long movie, a heavy dinner and their third glass of wine.

“I was kind of counting on it, or I wouldn’t have had this last glass of wine.”

“There we go, safety first.”

She lowered her eyelids and peered up at him through her lashes. “And I’ll be safe here?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘safe’.”

“Mmmm. That’s what I thought.” She smiled and drained the last of her wine.

He did the same, then took their glasses and set them on the end table. Both arms free now, he filled them with Rosalee, lifting her easily onto his lap with his Blutbad strength. She straddled his thighs and took a handful of his shirt, drawing him close, sliding her other hand behind his neck to pull him down to her for the kiss.

His lips were warm and gentle, and she loved the tickle of his mustache and beard against her skin. She teased his lips apart with the tip of her tongue and he opened for her. They both tasted of wine and the chocolate decadence torte they’d had for dessert.

The kiss was deep and slow, both savoring the moment and knowing where it would lead. She started unbuttoning his dark green plaid shirt and tugged the collar of his T-shirt down so she could kiss his neck above his collarbone.

Monroe tilted his head back, baring his throat to her, a lupine gesture not lost on his foxy lady. She kissed and nibbled her way up his neck and nuzzled, then licked behind his ear as his large, elegant hands slid up under her loose bohemian shirt to stroke her back and unhook her lacey bra.

She gave a low, throaty laugh. “If you’re going to release the girls, it’s time we went upstairs.”

“Yeah, bed’s a lot more comfortable than this the poor old couch.” He continued stroking her back with one hand but the other sought and cupped her breast, thumb circling her now erect nipple.

“Hey, we’ve had some good times on this old couch.”

“We have. But still, for what I have in mind, bed is definitely better.”

“Mmmm.” She sat up and wriggled in his lap, pressing against the swelling behind his zipper. “What do you have in mind?”

“You’ll find out.” He lifted her off his lap and set her on her feet, then swept up both wine glasses by their stems in one hand. “I’ll take these to the kitchen and put the dessert away. Giving you a head start.”

“Chivalrous of you.”

“Always, fair lady.”

“Ah, _not_ always. Not once you come upstairs, I hope.”

“You better be ready.”

“You’d better be, too.”

It was fun to flirt and heightened their anticipation. No longer entirely new lovers, they were exploring dimensions of their differences that no human couple could ever know.

Rosalee stood on tiptoes and kissed her tall man again, wrapping both arms around his neck to draw him down. He held the wine glasses off to one side and placed his other hand at the small of her back, supporting her as he bent her backward and deepened the kiss.

After a moment she drew back, breathless. “Wow.”

His smile was feral. She felt its heat travel through the core of her body and settle in the cleft between her legs. She swallowed once and pursed her full cupid’s-bow lips at him.

“Okay, then. I’m going up.” She grabbed her leather handbag. “I brought my toothbrush.”

“That’s all you’ll need.” His brown eyes glinted over his smile.

Rosalee laughed, feeling a thrill of excitement as she turned and hurried up the stairs, her bra loose and her breasts swaying freely as she climbed. She could feel his eyes on her back until he turned and took the wine glasses into the kitchen.

She knew she had a little time to get ready because he would meticulously wash and dry the glasses and hang them on their rack under the cabinet, put plastic wrap on the remains of the torte and tuck it into the fridge, and wash and put away the dessert dishes and forks.

There was only one time he’d gone to bed with her leaving dirty dishes in the kitchen, and that was their first night together after waiting so long, and with so many frustrating interruptions when Nick was living there. “Why don’t we do that tomorrow morning,” she’d said to him, her meaning crystal clear, especially when she _woged_ in his arms a moment later.

That night and early morning had been epic…and followed by a plague of zombies. _Memorable_.

She shook her head. Life had taken myriad bizarre turns since she’d come back to Portland. She could never have imagined two years back that she’d be here running her family’s apothecary shop and taking a Blutbad lover. Not to mention their constant entanglements with the Grimm and any number of complicated Wesen problems.

But not tonight. Tonight was about precious alone time with Monroe, and she meant to make the most of it. She brushed her teeth in the master bathroom, shed her clothes and slipped into the soft white camisole and teal sleep shorts she’d left here the last time she’d stayed.

By the time she’d folded her day clothes on the seat of the chair by the window, she could hear Monroe leaving the kitchen and going into the downstairs bathroom to brush his teeth and take his evening meds before joining her.

She padded barefoot to the bed with its solid, masculine wood frame, the collection of small clocks decorating the shelf atop its headboard around the stack of books he was currently reading. A history of Wales, oddly, and two others with old leather bindings, in German. She smiled and shook her head. _So_ Monroe.

She pulled back the covers on what had become her side of the bed. There were new sheets, a deep autumn gold with olive green stripes of a tiny leaf pattern. She brushed her fingertips over the soft fabric; it felt delicious on her skin. She climbed in and nestled under the covers, resting her head on the pillows that smelled like him.

His scent made her need pulse warmer between her thighs and she felt her aroused wetness when she pressed her legs together. _Hurry, Monroe_ ….

She heard his footsteps on the stairs and the click of the downstairs light switch. Arms around herself, she shivered in anticipation.

He appeared in the doorway and stopped to look at her, ready and waiting in his bed. He smiled and shook his head. “Miracles do happen.”

“Am I a miracle?”

“You are, to me.” He sat in the chair under his window and untied his shoes, pulling them off and leaving them under the chair. Rosalee lay on her side watching him undress. Despite all his other quirks, he was not body-shy. He smiled at her attention and methodically went about his bedtime routine, tossing his shirt and socks in the bathroom hamper, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants and stepping out of them. He left his wallet in his back pocket and folded his pants on the seat of the chair in easy reach, just in case. After too many late-night Grimm calls, these days he went to bed prepared to launch if necessary.

His phone went on the nightstand. He stood there in his T-shirt and shorts, unbuckling the leather cuff of his watch, and laughed at her hungry expression.

“What? You going to stuff a dollar in my shorts next?”

She gave a low chuckle. “Let me get my purse….”

“Never mind that. You can pay for the show another way.”

“Mmm. Is that negotiable?”

“Not really.” He laid the watch out diagonally from the corner of the nightstand and pulled the covers back on his side of the bed.

Rosalee stretched luxuriously, like a cat, and stroked the soft sheets. “Nice new sheets. They feel great against my skin.”

“They’re going to feel great against a lot more of your skin in a minute.” He settled in and reached for her, drawing the thin strap of her cami down her shoulder and kissing the spot where it had been. “They’re a cotton-microfiber blend. Thought I’d try out a set; we’ve been pretty rough on my old sheets.”

“Mine, too. Well, just the bottom ones. Who knew they would shred so easily?”

He stroked two fingers along the line of her shoulder and down her arm. “I found a place online where I can order just the fitted sheet, not have to buy a whole set.”

“Mmm, send me a link. That’ll be a real money saver.” She took his face between her hands, fingers threaded through his beard. “Sometimes we have the weirdest conversations….” and kissed him, smiling.

“This is weird? I find it highly practical.”

“’Cause, you know – claws.” She arched her fingers at him, cat-like.

“And your point is?” he teased.

“Lots of points, actually. You know, I gave up using nail polish way back because when I _woge_ , it looks really strange on my claws.”

“Like those people who get their dogs’ toenails painted to match their outfits?”

She laughed. “Kind of like that.”

He took her hand and looked at her neatly manicured fingertips, then kissed each one. “I like your natural look. Both of them.”

“Besides, I can’t afford to have little chips of nail polish fall into any prescriptions I’m mixing. Who knows what bad side effects that could cause?”

“I shudder to think.” He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, deliberately brushing it with his mustache. “Now, where were we?”

She gave a sensuous shiver. “You were going to do bad things to me.”

“Oh, right.” He flashed his wicked grin and ran his hand down from her bare shoulder along the curve of her waist, over the swell of her hips and down her thigh, sliding his fingers under the waist of her sleep shorts on his way. “Not bad things…naughty, maybe.” He tugged her shorts partway down.

“Naughty sounds promising. It’s a long time till Christmas; maybe Krampus will forget about you by then.”

“He had his chance when I was a kid. Guess I wasn’t naughty enough to qualify. But I’m no kid anymore.” He took her loose cami strap in his teeth and drew the soft fabric down to reveal her breast. “And I have a different kind of naughty in mind right now.”

His mouth closed over her nipple and she gave a soft gasp as he circled it with his tongue.

“Ooooh, that’s not naughty. That’s nice.”

“Just wait.”

“I don’t want to wait,” she moaned. “I’ve _been_ waiting, all day and all night. I want – “

“I know what you want.”

“Do you? Really?”

He leaned on one arm and looked down at her, covering that side of her body with his and enclosing her in the circle of his other arm. His eyes _woged_ , glowing red.

She melted back into the soft sheets.

“You _do_ know, my big, bad wolf.” Her Fuchsbau eyes flashed amber back at him.

“You know I’m going to eat you.” His voice was low with threat and promise.

“Of course you are,” she breathed, skin tingling at the thought. She reached up and ran her hands under his T-shirt, pulling it up over his chest.

He sat up briefly, long enough to peel it off and toss it on the chair. The shorts followed. Naked now, he crawled over her and pulled the hem of her cami up over her breasts. She held her arms up in surrender and he drew it off over her head, dropping it on top of her second pillow by the headboard.

“That’s better.” Braced on his arms, he knelt over her, looking down and admiring his bare-breasted lady. “Not sure why we bother wearing clothes to bed, except it’s so much fun taking them off.”

She lay under him and let her eyes wander down the length of him, and…the length of him. There was no doubting his desire matched her own. She ran her fingers through the wiry hairs on his chest.

“Will it hurt?”

“What?”

“When you eat me.”

“Oh, it’ll be excruciating. I’ll make sure.” His wicked smile flashed teeth. “Try not to scream too loudly, you’ll wake the neighbors.”

“Okay, I’ll try to scream quietly, then.” She couldn’t help giggling at the ridiculousness of that. He laughed, too.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Hey, you’re the one who _howls_.”

“I do not.”

“You do!”

“Well, maybe sometimes.” He lowered his body over hers and took her face in his hands, looked deeply into her soft brown eyes and kissed her. She felt his cock, hard and hot, pressed against her through her thin sleep shorts.

His kiss was hungry, demanding, and she opened her mouth to let him in, running her fingers through his hair and pressing him down to her. He deepened the kiss, showing her with his tongue exactly what he meant to do to her next, lower down.

She trembled with need and anticipation, her tongue teasing his lips and darting into his mouth. His hands roamed possessively over her body, so familiar to him now and yet so ripe with new possibilities.

Then he was nibbling the rim of her ear and sucking lightly on the lobe, kissing that wonderfully sensitive spot just behind it and drawing her hair out of the way, spreading the silken strands over her pillow. His kisses trailed over the curve of her neck, lingering over her pulse point.

She ran her nails down his back on either side of his spine and felt him arch with pleasure, so she did it again with slightly more pressure. That brought an appreciative growl.

His teeth closed lightly on the delicate skin of her throat, embracing her pulse point, and she relaxed in submission, the canid Wesen way of saying “yes” to what came next.

It did not necessarily mean she was going to be submissive.

He drew back and looked down at her again, brown eyes serious and filled with desire. She licked her lips suggestively and pressed them together.

His eyes darkened and he lowered his head again, murmuring close to her ear, “Remember our safe word.” She nodded and whispered it to him, her sex clenching with anticipation.

He kissed and trailed his tongue along her collarbone, then down to her breasts, again purposefully tickling her delicate bare skin with his beard. He kissed and lightly bit each nipple, just enough pressure to make her catch her breath, then soothed them again with his warm tongue.

“Appetizers,” he breathed, and she laughed as he moved further down her body, lightly nipping the soft skin of her belly and alternating with her sides so that she twitched and writhed helplessly, his beard and teeth tickling and exciting at the same time.

“I’m going to get you for that!” she promised between laughs and squeaks of pleasure.

His laugh rumbled in his chest against her lower body. “Good luck with that. I’m not ticklish.”

“I – eek! – have my ways.” Then her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as he _woged_ his left hand and drew its talons down the center of her smooth belly, his fur dark against her pale flesh.

“This is where I’d open you up, if I were really going to eat you.”

She gasped as he pressed his claws into her skin, not enough to mark her but enough to make her shiver. She reached down and entwined her fingers with his claws.

“I thought you said you were more of a…go-for-the-throat kind of Wesen.”

“Oh, we’ve already been there. You gave me your throat, remember?”

“Oh…right. I did.” She smiled and laid his fearsome Blutbad hand on her vulnerable belly again. “I guess it’s too late for me now. Do your worst.”

“Okay, I will.”

He kept the hairy paw pressed to her stomach as if holding her down, while his mouth trailed licks and kisses and small bites down the center of her body. His teeth caught the waistband of her sleep shorts, his other still-human hand under the satiny cloth, cupping her bottom.

He squeezed her round ass cheek. “This part will be delicious. But I think I’m going to have dessert first, because…I can.”

She smiled in delight and closed her eyes.

He took her waistband in his teeth again and drew it down, pulling the shorts past her thighs with both hands, clawed and human. Reaching deep under the covers he slid the shorts off over her feet, then tossed them up by her camisole.

“I’m going to enjoy your suffering,” he told her, both hands closing on her hips to hold her where he wanted her.

“I’m suffering now! Monroe, please…!” She writhed in his hands, knowing what was coming and wanting it desperately.

He laughed low in his throat, almost a growl, and nuzzled into her soft curls taking a slow, deep breath of her intoxicating scent. The foxy musk of her arousal made his beast stir and strain inside him, demanding wordlessly, _MEAT OR MATE_?

_MATE_ , he told it silently, and felt its lust surge through him and make his already rigid cock throb with need. _We’ll get there. It’ll be well worth the wait._

The primal act of him scenting her so intimately drove Rosalee wild, and she cried out in relief when he parted her pussy lips with his tongue and opened her, kissing her there the way he’d kissed her mouth a few moments before. She reached down for him but the Blutbad hand pressed her back on the bed. She would have to submit to being eaten.

She was so hot with long-simmering desire, the first thrust of his tongue nearly sent her over the edge and she arched helplessly, crying out again, the sound more like a fox’s bark than a human cry.

Monroe smiled and caught her hand with his Blutbad paw, holding it captive while he went about driving her crazy with his lips and tongue and human fingertips exploring her, circling her clit and down again, parting the soft petals of exquisitely sensitive skin, engorged and swollen with her arousal. He stroked the shaft of her clit hidden under her mound with one gentle fingertip while he licked her, pleased at how wet and ready she’d been when he first opened her.

“Oh, god, I can’t stand it,” she moaned, head thrown back on her pillow and squirming in his grasp. Her hand clenched and unclenched in his hairy paw while he teased her right to the brink then eased off again, over and over.

“I told you I’d enjoy your suffering,” he reminded her, lifting his face long enough to give her his wolfish smile. His eyes were glowing red again.

“Not as much as I am,” she managed, voice almost a sob. “Don’t stop….”

“No chance of that. The wolf needs to feed.”  He delved back into her again, this time sliding a long finger deep inside her, stroking along the upper wall of her delicious quim till he found that sweet spot and started stroking it while he continued licking and sucking the tender parts under his mouth.

“Oh, god, I’m going to die!” she cried, her body arching and straining for release.

“Told you,” he teased, and closed his mouth over her again, stroking her deep inside while he worked his wicked magic on her soft folds and then sucked gently on her swollen clit. He smiled as he felt her go.

She _did_ scream.

Quite nicely, too, he thought. Good thing all the windows were closed, or the elderly Neilsons next door would be lying together listening, and no doubt smiling, too.

Her love muscles clenched hard around his stroking finger, clenched and released over and over as she writhed and moaned in her pleasure and relief.

“Ohhh, enough, have mercy please….”

She reached down for his hand and he withdrew his finger, trailing it over her blushing labia and then placing his hand firmly over her sex, cupping and holding her in the palm of his hand. She stopped squirming and lay panting, her hand resting over his. From time to time she trembled again all over as the last retreating waves of pleasure washed through her.

“Aftershocks?” he asked mildly, un _woging_ his left hand and gently squeezing her thigh.

“Still on the Richter Scale,” she gasped. “Keep your hand there, it helps. Oh, damn, that…that was….”

“ _Le petit mort_?” The French always had the best phrase for it.

“I didn’t pass out…not quite. It was close. I didn’t want to miss anything.”

“Oh, you were there for the whole ride. It was a very satisfying scream.”

“Very satisfying,” she agreed, breath still heaving. “Any more and I don’t think I’d have survived.”

“Not many survive being eaten. It’s a thing.”

She laughed helplessly and pulled his hand up to kiss it. “Oh, Monroe, one minute you have me screaming, the next minute you’re making me laugh. How did I ever live without you?”

“You just didn’t know what you were missing,” he said, deeply happy with her last words. “Neither did I.” He kissed her damp triangle of curls one more time and climbed up over her body. “And soon as you’re ready, it’s my turn.”

“I get to eat you?” she asked, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Maybe later. The wolf wants something a little more basic right now.” He lowered himself onto her and rubbed his erection against her wet pussy.

She caught her breath and wrapped her arms around him. “Give me a minute. I’m still in sensory overload.”

“We have all night,” he said, still rubbing. “This isn’t going away on its own.”

“I don’t want it to go away.” She reached down between them and dipped her fingers in her own slick wetness for lube, then wrapped her warm hand around his cock, gripping him firmly. Monroe closed his eyes and groaned. She began stroking him, moving the soft loose skin up and down along his shaft, spreading her juices and gliding his foreskin over his tip and down again. Like most traditional Blutbaden families, his parents had not had him circumcised.

He shivered with pleasure at her touch and lowered his head, his voice tight and a bit breathless. “Did they teach you that at apothecary school?”

“No, I learned it from porn, like we’re supposed to.”

He laughed and shook his head, gasping a bit between words under her ministrations. “Who needs the awkwardness of Sex Ed when we’ve got the Internet? Way more bad misinformation than just hearing it in the street or from the old wives…if they still exist any more.”

“Screw them,” his lovely Rosalee said, stroking him harder and faster. “Or better yet, screw _me_.” She parted her thighs and tilted back, pulling him down to her eager body.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he teased, then lost himself in the hot, tight grip of her sex. She met his thrust with her own, taking him deep inside her.

He was a tall man, and large elsewhere as well. She’d teased him after they’d first made love that the size of a man’s hands might be a reliable indicator after all, as they lay together naked in his tumbled bed resting up for another round. She’d pressed her slender hand up against his, fingers spread, to make her point.

Hyper-sensitized as she was from being so thoroughly devoured by her wicked Blutbad, she felt his penetration intensely. He was wide and long and very hard, fiercely aroused by his pent-up need and the rush of bringing his woman to such heights of pleasure. At her sharp intake of breath, he held back.

“Too much?”

“No. No, I’m good. Just really feeling it after what you did to me.” She reached down and squeezed his butt cheeks, pressing him to her, digging her nails in just a little. “Let’s rock and roll, Blutbad, and see who screams…or howls…next!”

“I _told_ you,” he said, emphasizing each word with a thrust, “I…don’t… _HOWL_.”

She laughed, wrapping her legs around him and moving with him, each laugh making her pussy muscles squeeze him tighter as he drew back to thrust again. “We’ll see about that, too.”

It wasn’t long before the massive wood bed frame began to rock with the vigor of their lovemaking, some of the smaller clocks starting to wobble on the headboard’s shelf. One pitched off and would have literally clocked them if not for Monroe’s quick Blutbad reflexes, his hand shooting out to catch it just before it landed.

It broke their concentration only briefly, Monroe grumbling, “I need some earthquake putty up there,” as he set the errant timepiece on his nightstand without looking. Breathless, Rosalee gave a gasping laugh under him.

He looked down at her with love and lust, then gave her a wicked smile.

“What?” she panted.

To her surprise and frustration, he withdrew from her. But not for long. He knelt on the bed and pulled her up into an embrace, kissing her deeply, his erection pressed between them. She met his kiss with passion and need, reaching for him only to have him pull back and take her firmly by the shoulders and turn her around to face the headboard on her knees.

“Let’s do this like the canids that we are,” he said, his voice rough with desire, and she gave a shaky laugh as she realized what he wanted.

She grabbed all the pillows she could reach and pulled them into a nest, wrapping her arms around them as she bent down and rested her head and chest on the pillows, presenting Monroe with her pale bottom and her wet, swollen sex eager for the taking.

His approval rumbled deep in his throat and he gripped her soft ass cheeks with strong hands, stroking and kneading the pale flesh before holding her firmly in place. Rosalee closed her eyes and waited for it, body aching in anticipation.

He entered her again with a powerful stroke, filling her from a very different angle now, and she moaned her encouragement and pleasure with each thrust as she enjoyed the altered sensations.   She felt deliciously submissive and helpless under his sexual onslaught, knowing full well that she was really anything but helpless with him.

Monroe rammed into her again and again, one hand stroking and gripping her bottom, the other holding and supporting her at the angle he wanted.

He could penetrate her more deeply this way, and he did. She moved to meet him as best she could but it was a very male-dominant position. Giving herself over to the luxury of being taken and unable to do much in response, she reached back under herself to press and circle her clit while his thrusts rocked them both back and forth, the rhythm gradually increasing.

He gave a low laugh when he realized what she was doing. “Vixen!”

“Greedy, too,” she gasped, feeling that delicious ache of need rising again inside.

“Another thing,” he panted, “I love…about you.”

Then words vanished from his mind as the wolf inside would wait no longer; he took his mate fiercely, thrusting hard and fast, gripping her hips and pulling her to him. He heard her low moan as she climaxed again, stroking herself as he filled her, the muscles in her cunt squeezing him, releasing and squeezing again, triggering his own violent orgasm.

His back arched and he kept thrusting involuntarily, head thrown back, eyes closed, joyfully drowning in the intense surge of pleasure. And proving Rosalee’s point that yes, he did howl…sometimes.

Happily spent, his wolf subsided and he folded over Rosalee’s kneeling body, wrapping his arms around her in a grateful embrace, rubbing his bearded cheek between her shoulder blades and kissing the nape of her neck. She gave a shuddering sigh and reached back to close one arm around his, supporting both of them on her knees and the arm wrapped around the pillows.

Still connected, they eased back down to the bed together, both still breathing hard, their bodies spooning comfortably.

Nestling into the pillows, Rosalee pressed her bottom against her lover, squeezing him again inside her and holding him there. He kept his arms wrapped around her, his thighs pressed to the backs of hers as if holding her in his lap, and nuzzled into the soft spill of her hair across their pillows. Eyes blissfully closed, she enjoyed the soft touch of his lips on her neck as their breathing slowed, unconsciously drawing breath and exhaling in synch together.

After a few peaceful moments, she drew breath to speak but he beat her to it, his lips ticking her ear as he murmured, “Okay. I howled. Satisfied?”

She gave a soft breathy laugh. “Immensely satisfied.”

They lay together awhile longer, growing drowsy from their exertions, the late hour and the wine. Rosalee felt safe and cherished enclosed in his embrace, enjoying the warmth of his naked body pressed to hers and his manhood still held deeply within her by her strong inner muscles. She stroked his arm absently and entwined her fingers with his.

“Stay inside me,” she asked softly, clenching him when she felt him move to withdraw.

“Ummm…long as I can. You did me in.” He kissed her shoulder. “I’m not a hormonal teenager any more.”

She thought a moment before she spoke again. “Please, Monroe….”

He went very still against her, realizing what she was asking. “You know there’s only one way I can do that.”

“I know.” She turned her head on the pillows, looking back over her shoulder at him.

He lifted his head and looked deeply into her eyes. “You sure you want to go there?”

“I’m sure.” Her eyes and voice were beseeching, pleading.

He considered for a long moment before voicing his hesitation.  “If you weren’t Fuchsbau….”

“But I am, and you’re Blutbad. It’s not as if we’ve never….”

“Not quite like this. Not when only one of us is…when you’re….”

“Do it, please. I want to feel you…keep you inside me.”

He gazed down at her seriously, seeing how much she wanted this. “And _you’re_ not going to.”

“Not really necessary. Unless you want me to.”

He relented under her certainty, still doubtful but curious now, too. “Okaaaay…we’ll see. You ready?”

She smiled, watching him fondly, and nodded.

He tossed his head up and to one side, shifting into his full _woge,_ the kind anyone could see, even kehrseiten. His body changed against hers, inside of her, muscle and bone rearranging, fur flowing from his skin against her naked human flesh, his ears pointed and tufted with hair, face fiercely contorted, fangs grown long and razor-sharp, eyes red and glowing. His wavy hair became a thick shock of coarse fur spread back from a widow’s peak on his furrowed forehead, his beard thick and shaggy, hands and feet elongated and sprouting deadly talons instead of nails.

And like most canid species, wolves, foxes, coyotes, dogs and others, and many other non-primate mammals, his Blutbad body formed a bone that human men didn’t have, the _os penis_.

Canid Wesen males, sexually aroused in their _woged_ form, had indeed what could legitimately be called a boner.

Rosalee caught her breath at the strange sensation as he went from barely tumescent to hard in a way she hadn’t felt before in her human form. “Ohhh, that’s really weird.”

“You should feel it from this side.” His Blutbad voice was low and guttural. “First time it happened, it really freaked me out. You okay?”

“Yes…fine.” Rosalee’s eyes were unfocused at first, her attention turned inward on the physical sensations of his changed body inside hers. She pressed back against him, feeling his stiff organ penetrate her more deeply. “It’s just the change…happening when you’re already in me.”

“Be careful what you ask for,” he rumbled. He moved with her, watching her expression curiously as she took in the odd experience of lying with her lover in his Wesen form while she remained human.

“It’s not like I’ve never…but with other Fuchsbauer. Not with you.” She stroked what she could reach of his body in their spooned position. “I want to turn around and face you, touch you. Can we do that, and stay joined?”

Doubtful, he considered the challenging logistics. “Maybe…very carefully. If you’re still wet enough.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’ll be a little awkward and ungraceful, but…I think I’m flexible enough. I still dance for exercise….”

“Well, this’ll be worthy of a Bob Fosse routine if you can pull it off.”

She giggled, her love muscles squeezing him involuntarily, then clenched him on purpose and began turning slowly, rotating on his firm cock. Pointing her toes, she extended her top leg and pressed it close against her chest, lifting it up and past his shoulder as she moved around to face him. He leaned back and aside slightly to give her more clearance.

“Brava!” he rasped in his _woged_ voice, amused and admiring, when they were lying face to face without completely slipping apart. Rosalee wrapped her legs around him and sank her hands into the thick dark fur covering his back. He placed his taloned hands carefully against her hips and lower back and pressed her against him, sinking deeply into her body again.

Rosalee sighed with satisfaction and gave a little laugh, pulling herself close against him, her breasts nestled into his furry chest. “ _That_ was an interesting sensation. I actually ‘screwed’ myself. No way could I do that if you weren’t _woged_.”

He stroked her bare back, his Blutbad palm leathery against her silky skin, trailing the tips of his claws lightly but firmly enough not to tickle. “We could have just separated for a moment, then re-coupled, but…I have to admit I enjoyed the show. That’s a hell of a dance move,” he teased, voice rough and low.

“Well…more credit due to yoga, I think,” and she smiled at his deep growling laugh. Then her smile faded and she studied him, her face so close to his monstrous one, his eyes red and fangs bared, too large and long to be fully covered when he closed his mouth.

Monroe went still, the strangeness of this peculiar intimacy making him deeply aware of how fierce and frightening his Blutbad form was, not elegant and even beautiful as some other Wesen. Especially compared to his delicate and lovely Rosalee in her human guise.

She traced his face with gentle fingertips, her expression filled with tenderness, and his worries faded. He closed his glowing eyes as she reached back to comb her fingers through his thick coarse hair and stroke the edge of his ear out to its point and back again, her touch lingering on the soft fur that covered the back of it.

She leaned in to kiss him gently, one hand cupping the side of his face, unafraid of the sharp teeth and deadly canines when she pressed her mouth to his lightly, then firmly, taking his upper lip between her luscious full ones, then licking just inside his lips with the delicate tip of her tongue, encouraging him to open to her.

Monroe lay back slowly and carefully, sinking into the pillows and drawing her over him as she took his face between her hands and explored his mouth more deeply. He gave in to her questing tongue with a low moan, relaxing under her acceptance and enjoyment of his Wesen self.

She ran her tongue over the curves and sharp points of his fangs, tapping them lightly with its tip. “You really could eat me with those.”

“I really could,” he admitted, unbidden images of other creatures he had savaged rising in his memory. “And defend you, when I need to.”

“You’ve protected me from the very beginning, before you knew anything about me.” She kissed him again and rubbed her cheek against the wiry facial fur on his now-prominent cheekbones and powerful jaw.

“And you’ve trusted me from the beginning, before you even knew I was _wieder_.”

“More than I trusted Nick…but because of Nick, too.”

She sat up on him, rocking up and down, side to side a little, savoring the feel of him thick and hard inside her, then rested her palms on his densely furred chest, gazing down into his wolfish face with affection while he stroked her bare flanks with his hairy paws, careful not to scratch her tender skin.

“I didn’t read predator off you, just a very deep…reserve. At first when you came to the shop, I thought you might even be kehrseite-schlich-kennen since you obviously knew what Nick was, but when you leaned close and shook my hand, I could scent that you were some kind of canid Wesen.” She stroked his prominent forehead with its bristling brows and widow’s peak. “But when you _woged_ with me when I challenged you about really knowing my brother…I was not expecting a Blutbad. I just couldn’t wrap my head around a Blutbad helping a Grimm.”

He gave her a toothy grin. “Told you it was complicated.”

“Understatement of the millennium.”

He reached up and tenderly stroked her fallen bangs away from her face with a dark claw. “Your turn now. I want to feel you and watch you change. I want to nibble your cute fuzzy ears and play with the soft fur on your breasts. You know I think you’re hot when you’re _woged_ ….”

She smiled down at him and let her eyes go amber. “And then we’ll fuck ourselves to sleep?”

He laughed under her, clasping her waist with both hands, amused when she uncharacteristically talked dirty. “And then we’ll fuck ourselves to sleep.”

With a fluid toss of her head, Rosalee _woged_ , red and white fur spilling out of her skin as her ears grew long and pointed, protruding from her hair, and her lovely face morphed into its vulpine form, her nose satin black in the white mask of fur on her face and around her glowing eyes, surrounded by orange-red fur covering her forehead, cheeks and chin.

Her graceful neck was sleek and white with the silky coat that now also covered her chest, breasts and belly while her thicker red pelt covered her arms and back, bottom and legs. She smiled a sharp-toothed smile down at her admiring Blutbad lover, stroking through his coarser hair with red-furred hands and wicked curved claws.

They began moving together slowly, Rosalee riding her supine wolf man while Monroe caressed her foxy body. It would be slow and easy, until the end, Rosalee dominant this round; they were both tired and nearly spent…but in their Wesen forms, not quite, yet.

 

When it was over they lay entangled with each other, deeply relaxed and satisfied, Rosalee on her side resting her head on his shoulder, one arm draped over his chest and the other tucked under her pillow, her upper leg lying between his while his hairy hand possessively held her thigh, stroking its sleek red fur.

“I think the new sheets survived the night,” Monroe mused, gazing up at the shadowed ceiling. “Didn’t hear anything ripping, that I noticed.”

“Hope so. They’re really pretty, and feel so good….”

“I didn’t howl this time,” he teased, “even in this form. But you definitely yipped.”

She nodded, hugging him and nipping his shoulder lightly with sharp teeth. “I did,” she admitted.

“Good thing we rarely have the windows open or the Neilsons would think we’re addicted to late-night _Animal Planet_.”

Rosalee giggled helplessly, ending in an unintended little snarl. He touched a taloned finger to her adorable black nose.

“We’re pervs, you know,” he told her, mock-seriously.

“I know. But we’re only pervs with each other.”

“So it’s okay.”

With a slight turn of his head, he un _woged_ and she shifted back to human with him soon as she felt his morph begin, neither of them changing position in their embrace.

She snuggled in, sleepy now, and nodded against his shoulder.

“Works for me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope any readers out there enjoyed this bit of affectionate naughtiness! Please let me know if you liked it (or not) and any comments you're inspired to leave -- comments (and kudos, if you're pleased) really help feed the inspiration to keep writing Grimm stories!


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